


One Man Town

by Ironic_Swag7782



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Broken Bones, Gen, Hurt Lance (Voltron), Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Insecure Lance (Voltron), Lance (Voltron) Whump, Major Character Injury, Protective Pidge (Voltron), Torture, Voltron Whump Week, Whump, aaaaaaa how is that not a tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-16
Updated: 2017-08-16
Packaged: 2018-12-14 14:27:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11785065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ironic_Swag7782/pseuds/Ironic_Swag7782
Summary: They break his bones, one at a time, but still he won't say a word.Lance and Pidge get taken by the Galra, and things aren't looking too bright. They're too young for this.





	One Man Town

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't mean this to be so much longer than the others in the Voltron Whump Week series. It just happened. It is one of my faves in it, though, and I enjoyed writing it. I hope you enjoy reading it!
> 
> Tumblrs: @lovthelangst and @yesgay-briel.

Prompt: Torture

Wordcount: 3179

Characters: Lance McClain, Pidge Gunderson

Ship: N/A 

Title: One Man Town

 

Lance is woken by, what at first sounded like menial chatter, then he observes the hard edge to it. Slowly, he realises the voice belongs to none other than Pidge, and the second voice…he doesn’t recognise. With severe effort, he opens his eyes, at the same time attempting to focus on conversation. 

“-hurt! He needs medical treatment!” Pidge yells to the other party, kneeling on the floor, protectively, over Lance. 

“Pidge?” He mutters, putting a palm on the wall to steady himself. “Wha – What’s goin’ on?” 

“It’s okay, Lance, you’ll be fine -”

“Ah, the blue paladin.” Someone – Lance still doesn’t recognise the voice – booms above him. “It’s wonderful to finally meet you.” 

Pidge growls something he doesn’t hear under her breath, and that’s when he realises where they are – a prison cell. Literally. Three solid – or, solid-looking – walls, a fairly short ceiling, and one wall with very tightly-packed bars. It’s like something straight out of a cliché Taken-style movie. Except he isn’t being waterboarded. Yet.  
Oh, there it is. The sharp, yet dull simultaneously, ache in his right shin, demanding his attention. He guesses it’s a break, but he isn’t entirely sure. It could just be bad bruising, but… 

Either way, he’s got other stuff to focus on right now, leg. Like who the hell is this galra-looking dude towering above them, and why does he look like he wants to murder both of them? 

“Green and blue. I’ll admit, I did want the better ones. Red and black would have been perfect, even yellow, but a paladin is a paladin.” He (she, maybe? Lance has a bit of trouble telling the difference with Galra, sometimes) says. “Either way, one of you is bound to know something useful.” 

Pidge glowers again. But she has the right mind to not say anything. Meanwhile, the same galra dude – Lance thinks he should give them a name. Kevin? Something to make him seem a little less intimidating. He’s worried Pidge is as terrified as he is – stared at Pidge like she was a present, and Lance did not like that look on him. Especially pointed at his friend. 

“Excuse me, Kevin, but we’re kind of in a hurry. We appreciate your offer of accommodation bu -” Lance is cut off with a sharp, clawed hit across the face. It stings, and little pinpricks of blood trickle out from the claws, but his goal is achieved. They’re not focused on Pidge anymore. 

“My point is. The quicker you let us go, the less of a threat Voltron will be.” 

Lance almost falls back in shock when Kevin lets out a bark of laughter – is it? It certainly doesn’t sound like it, but Lance can’t think of anything else it could be – and grins at him. 

“I like this one. It’s funny.” The grin drops suddenly, almost as fast as the rock in Lance’s stomach. “We’ll take it first.” 

Pidge yells, an incoherent sound that makes Lance’s heart twang painfully. He manages to smile at her as he’s pulled out of the cell by the collar – his leg protests loudly at the treatment – and a short thumbs up. She sobs, quickly, but manages one back. 

 

“I mean I wonder what star this hotel would be rated.” Lance says, mindlessly, as he dragged through endless corridor after corridor. “Terrible customer service, if you don’t mind me saying. Awful smell, as well. Smells like something died!"

They’d stopped hitting him by this point – seemed it tired out their arms. Well, his arms were tired too! He’d been dragged around for what felt like hours, and showed no sign of stopping. Not like he really wanted them to stop – he didn’t know what was waiting for him when they did.

An…empty room. That’s what was waiting for him. Huh, fairly anticlimactic. He expected torture tools, chains hanging from the ceiling, knives waiting to stab and eventually kill him. Ah, cheery as always, Lance. 

When one of the other, sturdier-looking galra approaches him with a pair of handcuffs, he almost flips out and runs away again. Then, the image of Pidge, scared, alone and hurt flashes in his mind, and he lets the hulking galra chain his arms together without a fuss. 

He isn’t quite sure how to react when his chained hands are yanked above him, attached to a hook directly above his head – explains how he missed it when mentally searching the room – and his arms stretched enough to lift his feet directly off the ground. 

“Blue paladin.” That voice, he was sure he would still hear in his dreams, called. Lance strained his neck to figure out where Kevin had gone. “This is your first option. You tell me what I want to know -” It grabs Lance’s arm, and twists, hard. Lance bites the inside of his lip, drawing blood. “And no one gets hurt. How does the bond between paladin and lion work? Why can’t just anyone pilot the lions?” 

“I – I don’t know, I don’t know the science of it.” Lance sneers. “Even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you!” 

Kevin sighs, releasing Lance’s arm. He cracks his knuckles, ominously, Lance realising how much of a cliché this whole thing felt. The villain, threating Lance – he supposed he was the hero in this situation, not like he felt like one – to get information, in a dank, underground cell. 

“Left or right, blue paladin? Your choice.” 

“Wha – my choice?” Lance is so shocked by this ultimatum, he has no words for a quick beat. Until he’s backhanded again, he doesn’t move his mouth. “For what?”  
“Just choose.” Kevin demands, digging his long claws into Lance’s shoulder – mixing things up, he supposed. “Left. Or right. It isn’t hard.” 

He doesn’t have time to think about it – he doesn’t take into consideration that his right leg already is broken, so a little more damage won’t do that much more damage. Before he can even consider it, he stutters out; 

“Well – Left?” 

When they break his leg, he can’t help but scream – despite his best efforts. 

 

Pidge was sick to death of seeing her family hurt. She was sick of losing people close to her. She was sick of watching people she loved leave, being taken from her, being hurt. She was so done with getting attached to people and them leaving her. 

She didn’t want to lose Lance, as well. 

Abruptly, she stops her pacing, and drops on the wall, sliding down it slowly. She had been holding them in so well, but eventually, the wall against them breaks and she bursts into tears. She loved Lance, like he was family, just like she loved every other paladin. She hated that they had all been forced into this fucking – there was a voice in the back of her head, sounding suspiciously like Shiro, telling her to watch the foul mouth, but how could she when she had already seen so much, she was hardly a girl anymore – war. 

She’s on her feet the second she hears footsteps, springing up and desperately hoping to get some glimpse of Lance – okay, and unharmed, but she knows that’s not realistic. Much as she hates to admit it, as much as she wants to deny it, there’s a good chance Lance would come back…not unharmed. 

“He will tell us what we want to know.” The galra – didn’t Lance call him Kevin? God, how could he make jokes now? It was impressive, Pidge had to admit – said, dropping Lance in a pile in front of her. She snarls, dropping to protect him. “Else he will pay.” 

The galra – Kevin – leaves them, not before landing one more kick on Lance’s leg, however. Rage boils in Pidge’s stomach, and she forces herself to bite it down – there was a bigger priority, right in front of her. 

“Lance, Lance, wake up, please!” She begs, suddenly noticing his leg. Oh god, they weren’t supposed to bend like that, were they? 

Lance only groans in response, shifting slightly in Pidge’s grip. She clings to his shoulders, gently brushing his hair between her fingers, hoping it would calm him. 

“Mamá…” Pidge hears him mutter, through his sleep. Just hearing it makes her want to cry again, his voice breaking with agony. 

“Oh, Lance…” She mutters, wishing beyond belief that if only she could take him away from this horrible, derelict place. “I’m so, so sorry…” 

 

How long had it been? It couldn’t have been longer than a few days, surely? They hadn’t been fed yet, and it didn’t feel like her stomach was trying to devour itself – yet, a small, pessimistic voice whispered in her mind – so she didn’t think it couldn’t have been that long. 

Lance had only woken up three times, once where he woke up crying, hugged Pidge, and collapsed back into sleep almost immediately. The second time, he had been responsive for a good twenty minutes, where Pidge and Lance had managed a full conversation – Lance wondered how the rest of the team were faring, and of course he did. Keith refused to admit it, but Lance was incredibly selfless. She was sure it was only because of that quality that it was Lance in here, instead of Keith or Shiro, in the first place. 

The third time was five minutes ago. He hadn’t turned back around and fallen asleep, yet, so she had high hopes for this time. He was more responsive than usual, and seemed to react well to stimuli in the eyes. Maybe, she wondered, the concussion that she was sure he had was gone? Admittedly, she didn’t want to get her hopes up. 

“Lance, when we get out, I’m gonna ask Hunk to make us some space pancakes.” 

“Ohhhhh, Pidge, you are cruel.” Lance complained in an overtly-dramatic voice. “With maple syrup…or any sugar syrup will do…” 

“Imagine if he could find lemons…” 

“Pidge…” 

Alas, their ramble about pancakes, though important it was, had to be cut short. Heavy footsteps followed from down the hall to their lonely cell, and Lance immediately stiffens. Pidge grips his forearm tight, in what she hopes comforts him. 

Kevin stops a few feet in front of them, his clawed foot not even a few inches from Lance’s knees. If he had the strength – maybe if he was Shiro – he could break that foot. A little sense of revenge, he ponders, as his left leg spasms painfully. 

“Not taking…me anywhere today?” Lance challenges, sitting up despite himself. 

“Shut up, paladin. We are in no mood for your smugness and irritating remarks.” Kevin looms above him, pushing a clawed foot – what was it with galra and claws? Into his thankfully uninjured, foot. “We will find out what we want to know.”

“No!” Lance yells, subtly pushing Pidge to the side. She scowls, attempting to push Lance away from her. He simply gives her a look, a look that begs her, ‘stay out of this’.  
“Very well.” Kevin smirked. “Left, or right, blue?” 

Lance knew where this was going. He just couldn’t believe this was happening again. His leg still screamed in agony whenever he even so much as twitched, and occasionally his leg spasmed with pain. But…at least he could move it. At the moment.

“Left.” 

Quick as a flash, one of the other galra flanking Kevin takes Lance’s arm in a harsh grip. With a sudden realisation, Lance attempts to yank it away. He can’t let Pidge see this! She’s too innocent, she’s too young, she can’t – 

With a loud, terrifying pop, the galra basically crushes the bone in Lance’s elbow, and he resists the urge to howl in agony. He simply bites the inside of his cheek, tasting the coppery mix of blood and spit. 

“Lance!” He hears Pidge’s voice, high and terrified. “Lance!” 

“C’mon, it’s okay, Pidge, I’ll be fine…” He rambles. 

“Tell us where the castle ship is.” Kevin demands. “Tell us -”

“No! No!” Pidge suddenly screeches. “Stop hurting him! He’s just a kid, we’re just kids, he doesn’t deserve this! He doesn’t know!” 

Kevin suddenly spins round, facing Pidge with a terrifyingly amused look. Lance squashes the pain down, with about a thousand other repressed ideas, and forces himself to use is uninjured hand to push Kevin back. He’s pretty sure Kevin only steps back out of pure shock – how dare he, a mere captive, be aggressive to him? 

“How dare you?!” Kevin hisses, digging his fingers agonisingly into Lance’s injured arm. He can’t help it this time, he lets out a pain-filled cry, that eventually fades into a whimper as he feels his energy levels go down. “Try to TOUCH ME!?” 

“Please…” Lance doesn’t care he’s reduced himself to begging. The pain’s too much, he just wants this to end, he wants to go home, return to his mamá, see the beaches, to race his sisters into the water and…

Oh god, he doesn’t want this. He doesn’t want any of this. And Pidge, oh god, Pidge. She’s too young for this war! She deserves to be growing up happy, to be learning, not fighting a goddamn war. 

The blackness around his eyes starts to overtake his vision, and Pidge’s frantic crying eventually fades out, and…

And…there’s nothing. 

 

He wakes up with his head on Pidge’s knees again. And to the sound of stifled sobbing, by, well, it couldn’t be anyone other than Pidge herself. With what little strength he has left, he pushes himself up and just holds her. At one point, he feels himself start to cry, so all they can do is hold each other, in the hope that this will be over soon.

It took them a good twenty minutes, but eventually, they unstick themselves from each other. Funnily enough, almost at the exact moment Pidge opens her mouth to say something, an almighty crash resounds from down the hall, followed by muffled galra orders. Quickly after, they both hear a loud ‘fuck you!’ and both stare at each other, in knowing shock. 

“Keith!” Lance yells, grinning despite the agony he’s in. “Keith, Keith!” He screams out the bars, his arm hanging limply on one side. 

“Lance?! Pidge?!” He yells back, footsteps racing down halls. 

“Keith!” They both join in this time, desperation mingling in with joy. 

Still shouting, Keith’s voice eventually floats nearer to them both, and their shouts eventually dissolve into relieved, wordless yelling. Keith spots them, and immediately runs to their side, blasting the door straight down. 

“Keith!” Lance scrabbles, attempting to stand. He immediately regrets it, after his feet crumple terribly painful under his feet. “…sorry.” 

“Idiot, don’t apologise.” Pidge scolds, lifting him up with his arm over her shoulder. 

They attempt to get out the cell, but with Lance, it was not easy. Every step screamed agony for him, and with his broken arm round Keith’s shoulder, his entire body felt like it was about to give up. No, not happening, he yells at his body – in his head, of course, he couldn’t have Pidge and Keith thinking he was crazier than they already knew. 

“We’re getting out, Shiro!” He hears Keith yell to the source of the battle noises. 

“Have you got Lance and Pidge?!” Shiro yells in response. 

He hears Keith yell a response, but he’s already fading out as it is. The last thing he’s able to make out is Keith’s “he’s in a terrible shape”. 

 

All he wants is a glass of water. But goddamn it, why won’t his hand stop goddamn shaking? Just getting the glass from one side of the kitchen to the other seems a momentous task, especially without dropping it and smashing it. 

Just following this line of thought, Lance should have known he would drop the glass. Of course, it doesn’t stop him from being more than startled when it lands on the floor, smashing almost instantly. 

God, why is he crying? Why can’t he just get his shit together? Pidge had healed fine, Pidge had gotten out of the pod and basically gone straight back to work. And yet, here he is being a huge baby about it. 

“Lance?” At the sound of Pidge’s voice, he jumps up and hurries to wipe his eyes, but she’s in the room before he can articulate himself. “Oh, Lance, c’mere.” 

Pidge is straight by his side, and though she doesn’t do physical affection, she’s holding him close to her while he sobs. She mutters vague comforts she’d heard Shiro say before, hoping they’ll comfort Lance. God, he doesn’t deserve this. He doesn’t deserve any of this. Lance was the reason she was so unhurt, the reason she didn’t get any broken bones. She wasn’t dumb; she knew Lance was trying to distract Kevin – even now, she finds the joke of calling him Kevin funny – from her, to stop her getting hurt.

“I’m sorry, Pidge. It’s my fault we got stuck there together.” 

“Lance, you dumbass, I would have been captured either way. It’s because of you I wasn’t with Keith.” She chuckles, a little, just thinking about it. “Can you imagine? Being stuck in that cell with Keith? I’d go insane.” 

Lance laughs dryly, sniffling wetly. 

“You were the reason I stayed sane, sharpshooter. You were the reason I didn’t end up hurt.” She smiles at him. “It’s okay for you to not have healed yet. No one expects you to. God, Lance, you broke three limbs and got a mild concussion out there. You were basically tortured. It was a terrifying experience.” 

She feels him nod against her shoulder, and hopes maybe she’s getting somewhere with him. Lance wasn’t as bad as Keith or Shiro, but he could be stubborn when asking for help. It seemed to her like he didn’t think he was worthy, or didn’t think he needed it bad enough. It was obvious he compared his own suffering to others, constantly.

“What about you, though, Pidge? You probably thought I was dead multiple times. You weren’t fed or given water…once.” Lance persists. “It’s okay for you not to have healed, either.” 

“I’m not as okay as others think, I think.” Pidge admits, reluctantly. “I bury myself in work. I can’t express my emotions as easily as you or Hunk.” 

She hopes maybe opening up herself would encourage Lance to follow in her footsteps. He swallows, glancing down. 

“I guess…I tend to undermine myself…” 

She immediately softens, suddenly hating how low Lance’s expectations of himself are. 

“Sooooo…I’m gonna ask you to stop doing that.” Pidge states. “You’re worth as much as all of us, Lance. We love you. We’re always gonna want to talk to you and make you happy.” 

Lance just smiles at her, and nods. 

“Same goes for you, Pidge. Stop focusing so hard on work, focus more on feeling better, mentally.” 

“Agreed.” 

“It’s a deal, then.” Lance adds, grinning mischievously. Pidge loves seeing that look on him. Somehow, she feels it represents progress, change. “Someone’s gotta clean up this glass…” 

Pidge only winks, as she gets up and runs.

“Damn you, Pidge!” He yells after her.


End file.
